the infection
by andiyar
Summary: The tale of the initial outbreak; how the survivors first met and came to work together against the hordes of infected, and how they struggled to survive in a world descending into endless night.
1. Prologue

I remember playing a video game as a kid that started off with a nameless soldier saying "it can't be hopeless", over and over again. He was fighting in a war against a horde of the undead, he'd lost one of his hands and was losing it all. All he could say was "it can't be hopeless," right up until the end of the prologue when he was killed like it was an afterthought.

The past few weeks I've known what he meant. Right now we're at least safe, and sort of secure, but getting here was a nightmare that just didn't stop, punctuated by a few safe houses with locked metal doors where we could at least drop our guns for a few hours and try to sleep through the scrabbling of the infected outside.

I miss my job. I never thought I'd say that, hell I don't think anyone really does. But it's true, I miss getting up at seven thirty, having a hot shower followed by a coffee and a bagel, catching the bus downtown and clocking on for another day of helping users find their files and making sure patch cables weren't being kicked out of their wall sockets. It felt so pointless then, like nothing really mattered and like I was just floating along waiting for something interesting.

God, I fucking hate interesting. Right now I'm holed up with three other people in a small concrete bunker on the border, we're not allowed to cross the state line or we'll get shot, and we can't go back into the state or we'll get eate... no not eaten. Ravened. All we can do is just engage in desultory conversation, or try to keep our hands and minds busy. Writing all this shit down isn't the only option I've got there but she's asleep for the first time in two days, so I might leave that her option alone and see if I can put anything like a coherent chronicle together here. Maybe it'll help organise the nightmares, rather than have them come at random.

I don't think it'll help get rid of them.


	2. Chapter 1: patient zero

It was the start of October when I got the call from Naomi at the retreat centre. A group of the middle management guys had gone up there into the woods for some of that team bonding shit: trust falls, conferences, paintball fights, actual hunting - hell, you've seen it on TV. Anyway, they were in the middle of nowhere and had a small problem; their videolink had stopped working and so they couldn't talk with the executives, or watch hi-def porn or whatever it was they wanted to do.

Naomi told me to go fix it. I didn't really want to head out of town as it'd be a two day trip round, but she mentioned the golden 'overtime' word and I was sold. I threw together an overnight bag with a few spare clothes and my shaving crap, grabbed my laptop and headed out in my old station wagon.

It was a nice time to be driving that afternoon, the sun dappled shadows of pine trees across the dash as I wound my way into the mountains and there wasn't another driver to be seen. It was getting close to sunset when I finally got to the conference centre, passing the wooden sign and making my way up the gravel drive.

After I'd parked and grabbed my kit, I went into the main admin building. There weren't many people around, just a pair of the management guys sitting on a beat up old laptop and a cute girl making coffee in the corner. She gave me a look up and down and I returned the favour with a grin, before I headed over to the actual desk and asked the guy on duty if he could page Naomi for me. She was there in a few minutes, and took me into one of the main function rooms that looked like a gang of perverted kangaroos had been entertaining themselves on the tables.

"Here," Naomi said, unlocking the video equipment and the comms cabinet. "Something in here ain't working."

"Jesus," I replied as I took it in. Vintage didn't begin to cover it, some of that crap was easily five, ten years old. "How the fuck did this work in the first place?"

"No clue," Naomi shrugged, "but it did. Just try to get the damn thing working, or else we'll have to keep huddling round a laptop with a 3G connection and the boss hates when he can't see us all."

She left, and I sighed and hooked up my laptop and got to work. I spent a good three hours screwing with it before I realised it was the actual server that was fucked, and it needed a complete replacement - which wasn't there. By now I was hungry and pissed, so I hooked up my own laptop to the LAN and ran the video server software I'd brought on it, and lo and behold it worked like a charm. Problem was it was **my** laptop doing the running, and I knew what that meant - confiscated. I cursed, but then brightened when I thought this could have a shiny new requisition order attached to it.

I grabbed the internal phone on the desk beside the comms and dialed Naomi's room, and when she picked up I could tell she'd be happy. Well, happier.

"It's done, sorta," I told her. I could almost hear the frown.

"What do you mean, sorta?"

"I had to use my own laptop as the server. The old one here's fucked, it needs a complete replacement. The laptop will get you through, but it is my personal equipment." The wheels must have been clicking really fast in her mind, as she jumped right in.

"How much for a new one? We need that link to stay up this week."

"Depends, I guess. Should I just order a current specced one that's similar and hand over the requisition?" Naomi laughed, her voice almost breaking up.

"I thought so. Sure, what the hell. Chickenfeed; I'll sign it in the morning and then you can fill it in." She paused, then added, "I will be checking, so none of those hardcore gamer shit laptops. Get something useful."

"Will do," I agreed, and hung up.

It was dark outside now, and the foyer was deserted except for the cutie from before who was still manning the coffee machine. She smiled when she saw me and poured me a cup, which I took gratefully.

"You're new here?" she asked, as I sipped at the steaming black liquid.

"I'm from head office. Came out to fix some IT problems. How about you?"

"I'm interning here during college break. Bit of an office fetcher, you know." She took my hand. "I'm Zoey."

"Louis," I replied, gripping her back. "What are you studying at college?"

"Film," Zoey replied, her eyes twinkling. "Something practical, guaranteed to get me a good job at the end of the day." I laughed then and she joined in, her teeth sparkling in the fluorescent light.

"Intern or not," I said after we'd stopped, "isn't it a bit late for you to be still manning the coffee machine? Hasn't dinner happened yet?"

"Sure has," she nodded, "but there's a group still outside doing their hunting-bonding funtime. They were due an hour or two ago, but I've gotta wait for them to come in."

"Sucks," I observed. "Well, hope they come in soon. I think I'm for dinner and a shower."

"That sounds divine," Zoey sighed. "Well, enjoy Louis. We'll have to chat again soon." Her eyes were inviting, and I grinned.

"Indeed we will."

I woke the next morning when the sun shone on my face through a chink in the curtains. The clock told me it was 7:46 and I groaned, rolled over and hit the shower for a morning dose before pulling on my spare shirt and pants, wrapping my neck with a red tie. I padded downstairs to find some breakfast, and was surprised to see that Zoey was still on coffee duty, though she must have gotten changed as she'd pulled on a pink jacket and her hair was pulled back.

"Sleep at all?" I asked as I grabbed a cup.

"Eventually," she replied. "Here, I've got a message for you" and she handed over a piece of paper covered in Naomi's scrawl.

_Louis, I want you to stay here with the intern for a few hours. Some of the attendees didn't return last night, so we've all turned out to go find them. Newscast says there's been a few wild animal attacks, and we're naturally a bit worried. I want you to remain here in case they turn up here, I've got my cell with me if they do. We'll be back around midday._

I lowered the paper and looked at Zoey. "You read it?" She shook her head.

"No, but I can guess. We're the only two here at the moment, they've gone out to find the missing guys. They took weapons too, apparently there's a bear or something out there."

"Hmm" I replied, sipping at my coffee. "Well, nothing for it. Which way's the kitchen?"

Zoey and I headed into the back of the centre, where I proceeded to make myself a bacon sandwich for breakfast, washing it down with more coffee. After that we hung around in the main lobby, chatting about her film school and horror movies we'd both seen.

"So, Dawn of the Dead," I said as the clock was inching towards midday. "Zombie films aren't my thing." Zoey nodded.

"Not so much mine either, I like my horrors with a little more realism." She shot a sideways glance at me. "Not scared of them, are you?" she teased.

"Nah," I replied. "I've been killing them since I was ten, after all," and wiggled my fingers as if I was gripping an Xbox controller. Zoey laughed, and shook her head.

"Do you want something to eat?" she asked, pushing herself up from behind the urn. "I'm getting hungry."

"Sure," I replied. "I'll give the searchers a call, maybe something's turned up." Zoey patted me on the shoulder and made for the kitchen as I pulled out my cell and dialled Naomi's number. The phone rang for a few moments and then clicked on.

"Hey, Naomi," I said. "What's happening?"

There was no response. I could here breathing, and some kind of rattling noise, but she wasn't saying anything.

"Naomi," I tried again. "It's Louis. Have you found them yet?"

The breathing remained, but I could hear a scraping sound now, like teeth on bone. After a moment, I shrugged and hung up. Zoey returned from the kitchen with sandwiches, and I grabbed one while I tucked my cell away.

"What'd she say?" Zoey asked around a mouthful of tuna.

"Nothing," I replied. "It seemed to pick up, but noone was talking. All I could hear was some breathing and some noises." Zoey shrugged, and took another sandwich.

"Probably reception problems. I'm sure it's all fine."

The afternoon wore on with no trace of the lost men, nor of Naomi and the searchers. We started to get a bit worried, and I kept dialing Naomi but with no response other than breathing and creepy noises. It wasn't long before the sun started going down, shooting rays of light across the foyer where Zoey and I were tensely waiting; when the door burst open I almost jumped to my feet in surprise.

Standing in front of us was a burly-looking biker, his arms covered in tattoos and his hands gripping a semiautomatic. He gestured at us with it, and I started to raise my hands.

"Oh, don't do that" he said in disgust. "Are there any more of you here?"

"What do you mean?" Zoey asked, moving out from behind the machine.

"Survivors. Are there any more people alive here?"

"I... no, we're the only two here," I said. "What do you mean survivors?"

"Jesus, they haven't heard," another voice came from outside and a second man entered the room. He was older, with a cropped white beard and an old service jacket draped over his shoulders. His left arm cradled a pump action shotgun, scratched from long usage.

"Heard what?" Zoey asked, her face pale.

"There's been an outbreak here, some kind of disease or some shit," the second man replied. "People are going crazy, attacking each other, ripping each other apart. It's like bio warfare or something."

"Shit, Bill," the first man said. "We don't know anything like that. All we know," he said to us, "is that there's almost no one left alive around here that isn't infected. We heard that there was a retreat on here so we hoped we'd find a few more people."

"Almost everyone's out in the woods," Zoey volunteered, "looking for some of the guys who didn't come back last night." The two men exchanged a grim look.

"You any good with a firearm, either of you?" Bill asked. I shrugged and Zoey shook her head.

"No, never used one," she said. "I don't believe in guns." Bill laughed, an ugly hacking sound.

"Start believing, little missy," he said as he tossed her a pistol. "It's that or die."

"I think there's a weapons locker here somewhere" I said. "They do hunting and stuff on retreat. But why are we-"

"Because if they find us here," the first man interrupted, "they will do their best to tear us to shreds because we are not like them."

I swallowed, and Zoey dropped her pistol.

"Pick that up," the first man ordered. "Then let's go see this locker of yours. Might be something there we can use."

"Easy, Francis," Bill said, and closed and barred the door to the conference centre. "Easy steps. We seem safe here, for the moment. We can take the time to prepare."


	3. Chapter 2: wilderness

`Bill and Francis broke open the gun locker with a crowbar they found in the maintenance guy's toolkit, and as Zoey and I watched they grabbed a few firearms and tossed them onto a table along with a few boxes of ammo.

"You sure this is a good idea?" Zoey asked, and Bill grunted.

"Better than getting yourself killed, pretty thing" he drawled, handing her a rifle. "Why the hell this shit's here I don't know, you know what they say about gift horses."

"I think they do some hunting here," I ventured, watching as Francis kept stacking weapons on the table. "Part of their activities."

"Fuck, unless they're hunting people I don't see why they've got some of these," he replied, thrusting a semiautomatic into my cringing hands. "Here," he added, "take these" as he slung a bandolier of clips over my shoulder. Zoey gave me a weak grin as Bill fastened a belt of bullets around her waist, then rummaged through the cupboard himself and took extra shells.

"Just like at the shooting range," I murmured, and Bill gave me a thumbs up, then shut the locker.

"Okay," Francis said. "We're a bit safer now that we're all defensible. Let's grab some food and see if this place has any first aid kits, then we'll tell you kids what we know, and decide where to go from there." He grabbed a double-barrelled shotgun, testing its heft with a satisfied nod before grabbing a box of shells.

"Kitchen's this way," Zoey walked us to the stainless steel edifice, and we all grabbed some cold cuts from the fridge. Between mouthfuls, Bill and Francis checked that all our weapons were loaded and ready to go, then herded us out of the office with a bag of spare food to find medical supplies.

I rummaged through the administration office with Bill, while Zoey and Francis searched in the camping supplies area. We rejoined them after ten minutes carrying half a dozen first aid kits and some painkillers, which Francis divided up amongst us.

"Okay. Now, is there a basement, or something securable in this dump?" Bill asked, sliding a stick of gum into his mouth. Zoey nodded, and led us down a staff stairwell to the basement level. There were a series of winecellars down there loaded with vintage bottles, and Francis shook his head.

"Crying shame to waste it all," he muttered, then followed Zoey into a small maintenance storeroom. It was barely large enough for the four of us to all crowd into, but Bill hustled us in and then locked the door behind us and sat on the ground with his legs crossed. Zoey and I emulated him, but Francis remained standing, his eyes trained on the door with his gun in his hands. I swallowed, trying to keep cool. Zoey was paler than ever, and I squeezed her shoulder gently, and was rewarded with a brief smile before we turned our attention to Bill.

"Okay. Here's what I know. A few days ago I was hunting out in the woods a few miles west of here when I came across some human remains, fresh. They were strange, not like victims like an animal attack, but rather as if they'd died of some kind of disease. Not a mark on them except a twisted kinda grin on the lips. Anyway, I called 911 in and the paramedics showed up after a few hours and took the body out. Thought nothing more of it." He scratched as his nose, and reached into the food back, grabbing an apple and bit into it, a considering expression crossing his face.

"I reckon that might have been one of the first. I stayed out for another day or two then headed back to where I'd left the jeep - I do my hunting on foot, since 'Nam. On the way though, I was jumped by a pair of psychos I thought, covered in dirt and blood, screaming and moaning at me. I couldn't shake them off, ended up having to use old Jess here," he patted his shotgun. "And it wasn't easy, they didn't want to stay down. At that point, I began to hurry back to my jeep, and I can tell you it was nice to see her. I went to raise the cops on the radio there, I hadn't wanted to wait in case there were more crazies around. Instead, I flipped on the radio and heard an all-stations disaster message."

"What did it say?" I asked, my hands playing with the barrel of my gun. Bill grinned, humourless.

"I wasn't the only one who'd been jumped by the crazies. There was a warning saying that some kind of virus was making people go nuts, attacking each other and sometimes themselves. Somehow it'd broken out in town, starting at the hospital, and now the whole place was overrun by the psychopaths. The only way to deal with them was to kill them, nothing else seemed to work. They were calling them 'the infected', like there was a war going on."

"And there is," Francis added, still focussed on the doorway, speaking quietly. "I was out for a ride in the mountains when I ran into a group of the fuckers myself. They threw themselves in front of my bike, almost fucking ramming me into a tree. I was able to outrun them for a bit, but they were goddamned fast. Pure luck I ran into Bill in his jeep."

"True," Bill said, retaking up the tale. "I took them out, then Francis and I here headed over to the conference centre. It's the only place where we figured there might actually be people out in these here mountains, and we were hoping maybe either the cops or someone else would be using it as a staging point into the mountains. Instead, it's almost empty."

"That's not our fault," Zoey began with heat, but Bill held up his hand.

"I know pretty thing, not your fault at all. Regardless of that, the question remains what do we do now. There's infected out in the woods, and maybe even getting close to this building. We don't know if they can track by scent, if they can they might be following the trail of my jeep or just sniffing around for people."

"Oh God," I said softly. "They could be here right now, up there."

"That's why we're down here kid," Francis said gruffly. "It's getting dark out there, and that's no time to try to dodge the fuckers. No, I figure we stay here tonight, take turns on watch, and then in the morning pile into the jeep and make a run for town."

"But you said the infected were there," Zoey objected. "How is that any better than here?"

"Well, at least there'll be more survivors around there, we hope," BIll answered. "Also, the cops, the national guard, they'll be centred around the town. We're hoping we can either find a chopper or some kind of help there. Yes, it'll be dangerous, but if we stay out here in the woods with those bastards roaming around, sooner or later they'll find us, hours away from help."

"What a shit choice," I muttered. Bill nodded.

"Yes, it is. But if you can think of something better?" Zoey and I looked at each other, then shook our head. Bill grinned.

"Thought not. Try to get some sleep kids. It'll be a busy day tomorrow."

I was woken by Bill shaking me on the shoulder, one hand still holding the firearm he'd named Jess.

"Come on. Up, Louis," he hissed, gripping me hard along the clavicle.

"What is it?" I said, my voice groggy and somewhat loud.

"Keep that fucker quiet!" Francis hissed, bent over Zoey in the corner of the room. She was muttering sleepily, but he kept pushing at her and whispering at her to wake. I swallowed, and looked into Bill's eyes, inches from mine.

"Why are we keeping quiet?" I asked, my voice low. Bill jerked his head at the door and his eyes grew hard, until I could almost see sparks coming off them.

"There's something out there," he replied in a whisper. "We're not sure what it is, but it's scratching around and we thought it might have found us, but it moved on. We have to get out before anymore of the infected find us, assuming that it is alone."

My fingers shook as I gripped my semiautomatic. "Is it still dark outside?" Bill nodded.

"It's only just after midnight. We've no choice though, if they're finding the centre then by morning there could be dozens of them outside, and I don't know about you kids but I'm not up to that first thing after breakfast."

Zoey stood and pulled her jacket back on before shouldering the hunting rifle she'd grabbed from the locker. "So, what do we do?" she asked. "It's dark out there, we didn't leave any lights on other than the automatic escape ones. How can we get out without light?" Francis grinned, and lifted his shotgun, a flashlight duct-taped to the barrel. He gestured at the table, where there were several more and a roll of the silver tape.

"It's a maintenance room," he said with his voice mirthful. "Found them in a storage closet." I grabbed a flashlight off the table and taped it onto my semiautomatic, moving hastily, then helped Zoey tape hers to her rifle while Francis and Bill gathered together our medical kits and food, stuffing them into backpacks. After a few minutes, Bill looked over at Zoey and I with an eyebrow raised.

"Ready, kids?" he asked, gripping Jess with his right index finger on the trigger. I nodded, and so did Zoey with her breath whistling quickly through her nostrils. Bill gestured at Francis them who clicked off the light in the room and flicked his flashlight on before opening the door.

We filed out into the wine cellar, our lights flickering over the rows of bottles and barrels. Nothing moved in the shadows that we could see, and Francis led us towards the stairs, Bill bringing up the rear.

"Careful up here," he whispered to Francis in the lead. "Don't get too far ahead." Francis nodded and stopped at the doorway to the stairwell, flickering his light back behind us as we came closer.

Our warning was Francis' eyes widening, and then his shouted "Fuck, down!" as he swung his shotgun over and emptied both barrels past Zoey's left ear. There was a shrill scream and I felt warm wetness slam into the back of my neck. I dived forward, forcing Zoey before me and swung around with my semiautomatic raised.

Lying on the ground was a twitching figure, her face missing and blood leaking out onto the cold concrete floor of the cellar. I swallowed as I recognised her, wetting my lips with my tongue, saliva barely coating the cracks.

"Naomi," I whispered, as she twitched one final time and stopped moving.

"That's torn it now," Bill said, ignoring the corpse of my boss on the floor. "They'll have heard the shot if anyone's in the building. We'll have to move fast now, make for my jeep in the parking lot. It's not locked, once we get there we'll pile in and I'll drive us out of here. Francis take the lead, I'll keep in the rear. Louis, you and Zoey keep an eye out to our sides and help Francis if anything comes at us.

I nodded jerkily, still staring at Naomi's body. Zoey squeezed my left forearm, her face painted with compassion. "Come on," she whispered. "We're still alive."

I turned away from Naomi, then nodded at the two other men, and smiled jerkily at Zoey. "Let's go," I said. Francis kicked open the door to the stairwell then and climbed rapidly, flashlight illuminating the bare stairs on the way up and stopping at the entrance into the centre.

"Goddamn my knees," Bill muttered as we climbed, then fell silent at the top of the darkened stairwell. "Okay. Go," he commanded, and we went, darting out into the corridor and jogging towards the entrance. We didn't meet anything until we reached the foyer, where we heard a soft moaning noise.

Beside the coffee urn a pair of figures stood swaying and clutching their heads. As we approached they turned abruptly and with shrill screams they charged towards us, hands outstretched like claws. I stepped back and aimed, pulling the trigger and spraying them with bullets as they closed, flesh accepting the lead missiles with brief pops of blood and skin. Francis finished them with a bullet to the face each and they fell onto the blue carpeting.

"Run," Bill barked, and we darted outside. There were around a dozen infected shambling near the entrance, attracted perhaps by the screaming and gunfire. I moved up beside Francis and held down the trigger, cutting down three of them before the clip was empty. Zoey and Francis then fired at the others before us while I struggled to jam in another clip. An infected lunged at me and I leapt backwards only to see its face explode as Bill emptied both barrels into its chest.

"Come on, Louis," Zoey shouted as she and Francis ran to the Jeep, Bill yanking me forward. I rammed the clip home and spun, running backwards towards the jeep, waving my gun in a half circle. Four infected emerged from the conference centre doors and charged towards us and I carefully aimed a few bullets into the chest of each, bringing them down before I reached the Jeep. The others were already inside, and I slid onto the back seat beside Francis as Bill gunned the engine and spun the wheel.

More infected were emerging from the woods around the centre but the Jeep roared and jerked towards the road, Bill ramming the accelerator down as we made for the safety of the road. Zoey let out an explosive breath.

"Okay. Okay," she whispered. "It's okay. We made it."

"Made it, honey?" Francis snorted, staring at the dark trees spinning past us as Bill accelerated down the hill. "We haven't made it. Not even close."

Behind us, the chasing infected slowly dropped behind as we drove down the mountain road towards the town, the moon tracking shadows across the dash. Bill lit a cigarette, driving one handed.

"He's right kids," he said around the butt. "You did good there, but we're just getting started. There's more of that coming."

Zoey didn't reply, she huddled down into her chair and just shivered. I wanted to comfort her, but I couldn't find the words, because they would have just been lies. And lies wouldn't have helped anyone at all. There was nothing I could say other than to repeat Bill and Francis' words.

There was more coming.


End file.
